


Crime and Punishment

by Smr03040



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smr03040/pseuds/Smr03040
Summary: Coffee shop owner Hermione Granger gets more than she bargained for when surly customer Draco Malfoy becomes a regular.





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is my very first fanfic EVER. I've been reading fanfiction for over 10 years and now I'm finally writing one. I'm a big dramoine shipper and I love AUs. So get ready for my slow burn coffee shop au! It's gonna be intermittent updates, I go to school and I work full time so I'll mostly be posting updates when the muse strikes. I've taken a few liberties in order to make character interactions as in character as possible. I would love constructive criticism and suggestions! Or even a beta as this is being posted sans-beta! 
> 
> One of the biggest character changes I'm making is that Hermione is Jewish and Draco's family are white nationalists. Her religion isn't going to play a massive role in this fic but I needed a logical reason for Hermione and Draco to fight each other a little. If that bothers you then don't read it. Also, I am not Jewish, I have been doing a lot of research in order to properly and respectfully portray Hermione and her family but PLEASE if I make a mistake or anything of the sort please please please correct me!
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this fic!!

**Chapter One: The First Day**

 

**Tuesday, August 27th**

 

A stately man approached the counter. Having waltzed into the coffee shop as if he owned the place, it was made apparent that he was a regular at Witchy Brews, the closest coffee shop to the precinct. As he got closer to the counter he noticed the man who usually took his order was absent. In his place stood the petite brunette who was normally in the back of the shop, taking inventory and stocking. He did not like it when his routine was changed. 

 

"You never work the counter," a cool drawl stated, coupled with an appraising eye. 

 

"Oh. Um, yes. Someone called out today."  The woman, startled by his abrupt statement, answered the man while nervously tucking a loose curl behind her ear. 

 

"Well, why? Why are you working the counter?" His voice spoke of his character: distinguished, educated, and haughty. 

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, thinking to herself,  _ Well that's none of his business. _ Putting on her cordial business owner facade she answered the man. 

 

"We’re short staffed and someone unexpectedly quit. I'll have to fill in up front until Harry and I can get another employee." Recognition bells went off the in man's memory,  _ Harry, I wonder...  _

 

"Just hire some college kid. This job can't be hard." The off hand comment spoke of this upbringing, he probably never worked a customer service job in his privileged life. 

 

"It's not that simple. We don't hire college kids. I'm sorry, but what would you like to order?" She was getting annoyed with him, and didn't bother to hide it anymore. 

 

"Coffee. Black. Malfoy."

 

"You know, people usually give us their first name," she countered with her chin slightly raised, a little miffed at his attitude. 

 

“Whatever.  Keep the change.”  A few bills were tossed in her direction, the measly three pennies change were dropped unceremoniously in a small ceramic tip jar, clearly homemade.  The woman rolled her eyes at this Malfoy’s behavior, scrawled his name on the cup, and passed it along to the barista on the line.  She reached behind her head and tucked the sharpie back into her riotous curls which were swept into a high messy bun.  With another huff she took the next customer’s order.

 

…

 

“So you’ve decided to grace us with your presence, Detective Malfoy!” The jovial voice broke up the chatter in the room, and all eyes turned to face the blonde man.

 

“Ah, shove it Potter.  Someone new made my coffee this morning and I think she spit it in,” he replied with a casual shrug and a smirk.  His coffee was in one hand, with an angry looking scribble that was supposed to say “Malfoy” on it, and his other hand was near his shoulder, draping his camel colored jacket down his back.  His posture and demeanor screamed elegant ease.

 

“Ha! Hermione would do that… No doubt you deserve it.  I still don’t know why he’s here Harry!” A new voice bellowed and whined.  The owner of this voice, a tall, fit young man, with a mop of orange hair and a stampede of freckles across his face, crossed his arms

 

“Hermione’s working counter, huh?” The man named Harry asked, raising a brow at the redhead. 

 

“Yeah, Delacroix violated his probation so he lost the job.  Hermione’s been nagging me to help her set up some interviews but with this streak of hate crimes it’s been hard to set them up,” the redhead replied, his muscular frame leaning against the desk.

 

“Oh yeah Ron, now that you mention it I’m pretty sure she told me, too.  Shit, that’s gonna take forever,” Harry sighed, “Maybe one of the interns can find us a list of potentials.  Oh and just ignore Malfoy-” a cursory hand was waved at Malfoy.  “I know you two don’t get along but he’s got good intuition and experience with hate crimes.”  Malfoy’s eye twitched in annoyance, as interesting he found this conversation about the snooty brunette at the coffee shop, Hermione apparently, he hated being ignored.  One does not simply  _ ignore _ a Malfoy.

 

“Oh yeah?  Experience with hate crimes?” Ron spat out, angrily, “You mean his family’s just a buncha white nationalists?” 

 

“Watch it Weasley,” up until this moment Malfoy’s disposition was carefree and almost playful, but at the insult thrown at his family he stiffened up, an iciness creeping into voice.  “Leave my family out of it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah…” Ron countered, getting riled up.  Harry, noticing the tension was coming to peak, butted in directing focus to their current case.

 

“Save it for your lunch breaks, boys.  Another Jewish business in town was ransacked.  That makes the third hate crime this month…”  Harry drawled on as the men took a seat and began to look over the files, trying to draw any connections.  

 

…

  
  


“Ugh, Harry!  You would not  _ believe _ the pompous  _ jerk _ who came into the shop today!  I just wanted to throttle him!” Hermione’s exasperated cry burst through the door of Harry and Ron’s apartment.  She all but slammed the door behind and threw her wool peacoat on the coat rack.  With an exaggerated sigh she plopped down into a large, green armchair and gave Harry a sour look. 

 

“Hello Hermione,” he greeted her with a small chuckle.  “So you’ve met Draco, then?” he asked with a raised brow.

 

“ _ Draco _ ?  His name is  _ Draco _ ?  That’s about as bourgeois as it gets!”  She threw her arms up in distaste, then quickly crossed them over her chest. “And how do  _ you _ know him?” She asked with a piercing glare, “Please don’t tell you have to  _ work _ with that snob!”

 

“Yeah we do!  He’s a right prick!” Another voice joined the fray as Ron poked his head into the room, his mouth half full of what look like a deep dish pizza slice.

 

“Don’t eat all the pizza you glutton!” Hermione countered back, jolting upright and running into Harry and Ron’s rather spacious kitchen.  Harry followed her with a smile and a slight shake to his head.  He was never quite sure how he loved his friends so much when they were so goddamn annoying. “I’ll grab the plates!  Paper or real plates, Harry?”

 

“Use the paper plates, with this new case we’re not going to have time to do dishes,” Harry grumbled as he sat down next to Ron at the small maple dining table.  Hermione set down the plates in front of the boys, a napkin on each side.  In front of Harry she placed a glass of water and Ron got a glass of milk.  Hot sauce and ranch dressing were also gracefully set on the table.

 

“Ah shit, Mione, you always remember what I like!” exclaimed Ron, dumping ranch dressing and hot sauce onto his pizza.  Hermione rolled her eyes,

 

“It’s not that hard Ronald.  You’ll eat everything,” though cruel sounding the words were spoken with love.  She grabbed a small slice of pizza and took a small bite.  “So is this big case the reason why you two haven’t found me a new employee yet?”  She asked, fully aware of how naggy she sounded.

 

“Yeah, actually, it is.  There’s been a lot of hate crimes targeting minority owned businesses in the area.  It’s clear they’re all connected but there’s been no message or real clues as to how.  Or what their endgame is.”  Harry grabbed another slice of pizza, “Ron, this from Martone’s?  It’s better than normal.”

 

“Yep!  Grabbed a fresh pie on my home from the precinct.  If ya have your badge displayed they make ya a fresh pie,” Ron boasted with a broad grin and cheesy smile.  “But on a serious note Hermione, you gotta be careful.  These people are torching businesses and ruining livelihoods.  Witchy Brews is close to the precinct so you’re probably safe but you just watch out.”  Hermione hid an eye roll; she new Ron meant well but she wasn’t a child.  The incident had happened three years ago and she was fully recovered.

 

“Don’t worry Ron.  We’ve got the best cameras and panic buttons due to our government funding.  Witchy Brews will be fine.”

 

“I’m not just talking about the coffee shop, Mione.  These people are targeting specific groups.  Amani Kenyan Market was torched last week.  And the dumpling shop two weeks before.”

 

“Ron, I know.  You forget that I was on the force, too.  Just ‘cause I haven’t been in uniform for a few years doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten that people hate minorities and jewish folks.  My business and I will be fine.”  She turned a stern look on two men at the table, “So long as I get another employee to replace Delacroix.”

 

“Yeesh, Hermione, we’ll get it done!” Ron replied, melted cheese and pizza sauce all over his face.

 

“Gross Ron!  Chew with your mouth closed!!”

  
  


…

  
  


Hermione laid in bed, hand absent-mindedly rubbing a scar on her forearm.  She replayed the day’s events in her head, starting with the man at the coffee shop.  

 

_ So he’s a detective _ , she thought.   _ He must well educated, he doesn’t look very old, maybe my age.  I wonder if Harry and Ron have worked with him before.  They seemed to not like him, not that I can blame them! _

 

She continued to get lost in her own thoughts, snuggled up in her cozy bed, a dark orange cat at her feet and a hand-knit afghan thrown over her quilt.

 

Her apartment was small, but she liked it that way.  Besides her bedroom there was an open concept living room and kitchen, a full bathroom, and a small office.  After the incident Harry and Ron had wanted her to move in with them but she loved her apartment and freedom.  If there was anything that Hermione hated, it was being coddled.  She had always been a free spirit with a heck of a lot of fight in her.  

 

Her apartment was tastefully decorated, with small touches of knick-knacks and kitschy items here and there.  And plenty of photos on the walls of her, Ron, and Harry.  A few photos included some other redheads, looking quite closely related to Ron.  There was an empty space on the wall, where a photo had clearly been hanging.  It must have been up for a long time because the edges of the empty space were dusty and sun faded.  A picture frame laid facedown on the console in the entry way.

  
  


…

  
  


Draco sat at a fine dark oak desk, with hand carved legs and mahogany inlays.  

 

_ 2:00am _

 

The clock blinked insistently as Draco rested his head on his hand, his other hand rubbing his sleepy eyes.

 

_ There has to be some clues here.  A hint or something to their next target. _

 

Draco often stayed up late working on cases.  He found he never slept well when there was a large case to be solved.  He sighed and looked over the reports of the past several arson crimes.  He had looked over the papers damn near a hundred times but nothing stood out.  His mind began to wander to the brat at the coffee shop…

 

_ She certainly had an attitude.  Acting like the owned the place.  Doesn’t she know the customer is king?  I certainly hope she’s not taking orders again tomorrow… _

  
With that errant thought he forced himself up and to bed.  He lived on the outskirts of the city in a stately manor, well adorned with the finest finishings.  It was his childhood home that had been willed to him upon his father’s passing.  His mother still lived but she preferred their summer home on the coast.  He rarely saw her but they spoke frequently on the phone.  The manor seems quite empty and lonely at times, though Draco would never admit it.  Two wings, eight bedrooms, five bathrooms, a powder room, a library… He could go on forever.  Overall the manor just felt cold to him, and often found himself wondering if it always had.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy learns more about Witchy Brews and Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg you guys I am so sorry that this took me like literally 8 months to write. I started a new job and life just totally got in the way. And then all my mojo left and I had like zero desire to write. But! The mojo is coming but! I can't promise regular updates but this story will be finished. It just might take a while. Also, this is un-beta'd, so if you see any errors please let me know!
> 
> Enjoy guys!

**Chapter Two: The Second Day**

 

**Thursday, August 29th**

 

Hermione crouched close to the ground, back hunched, arms furiously scrubbing at the graffiti on the front window of Witchy Brews.  The crumpled rag in her hands had several large black streaks on it, the white quickly becoming a dark, mottled, grey.   _ Stupid kids.  Messy graffiti.  I don’t have enough ti- _

 

Hermione’s scrubbing gained a certain wildness as her hands sped up. The ancient symbol, which once represented a bustling home and hearth, now only evoked hate and prejudice. That little four sided squiggle had never appeared on her shop before the resurgence of the well known hate group, The Death Eaters. Now she found herself scrubbing the windows almost weekly.    
  
The Death Eaters preached white supremacy, Christian white supremacy. They were mostly present in the Deep South, so when Hermione's parents had the opportunity to open their dental practice in the wholesome Midwest, they jumped on board.  Although Hermione never considered herself very religious, she found the whole idea of religion impractical, she seemed to be a recent target of a local faction of Death Eaters. Again. She would never tell Harry and Ron.  _ They must not know.  _

 

“Whatchya doin there?”

 

Hermione’s body froze, she looked up, the motion accompanied by a nasty crick in her neck. 

 

“Don't you have some peon to do that for you?”

 

_ Close your eyes. Count to ten. One. Two. Three- _

 

“Jeez, don't you know how rude it is not to respond to me?”

 

“What do you want  _ Malfoy? _ ” She spat at him,  _ This is exactly what I need right now.  _ Her eyes rolled back, her hands tightening around the grimy rag and spray bottle. She agitatedly tugged on her sleeve; a tick she had developed after her accident. 

 

“You know, for working in a coffee shop you always seem rather uptight. Sit back, have a coffee or something.”  He languidly shrugged, smirking. 

 

Hermione got to her feet, stepping in front of the graffiti on the store window. The last thing she wanted was for it to get back to Harry and Ron That Witchy Brews might be a target. 

 

“Please head on in Mr. Malfoy, the baristas inside can help you with your order.”  Draco took in her body language and her sudden change in demeanor; it was obvious she was trying to hide something. He didn't need years on the force to realize that. 

 

“Did the store get tagged?”

 

“What? No! Of course not. It's just-- A bird! A bird made a mess of the window. Now go! On inside with you!” She opened the door with a gush of energy. Placing her hand in his upper back and she gently urged Malfoy into the store. “Tell Thomas I said to give you an extra shot!”  She quickly grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it closed before he could even register what had happened. 

 

_ If Harry and Ron found out… _ Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and crouched back down, attacking the graffiti with renewed vigor.  Once the window was back to her idea of perfect, she scurried inside, being sure to keep out of Malfoy’s sight.

  
  


…

  
  


Draco chose to drink his coffee in house today, his work stretched out over several small tables, his feet kicked up on the chair in front of him.  He reached over to elegantly lift his coffee mug to lips.  Though he’d never admit it, Witchy Brews had the best coffee roast in town. Even better than the Colombian roast his father had imported.  He set the mug down, carefully examining the vessel itself.  Another quirky aspect to coffee house, all the mugs were mismatched.  He could tell they were all a standard 8 ounces of liquid, and instead of buying by size, when enjoying in house, it was one price with unlimited refills; for the standard drip of course.   _ Quite sensible really _ , Draco errantly thought. The pastries were also good here, but he often chose a savory scone, like the spinach and cheddar one he was currently sampling; the world need not know of his sweet tooth.

 

He flipped through a leather bound journal, comparing notes on all the tagged, vandalized, or arsoned businesses in the area.  When Potter brought him on, he was initially quite confused.  Being a prominent family member of a house that had been brought into the light has avid white supremacists, he found himself often ostracized in the crime enforcement community.  He loathe to admit it, but Potter really helped him out here.  Focusing his attention back on his work, he continued to wrack his brain.  Staring at street map, each affected location circled or starred,  _ There must be a pattern _ , he thought.

 

“It’s a snake,” her voice cut through the quiet of the shop; if he were a lesser man, he would have jumped.  A small hand reached over his shoulder and traced a pattern on the map.  “The head is up here, it slithers down, tail ending…. Here.”  She punctuated the word with a light tap on the map.  “Your key isn’t as in depth as it should be, though.  Arsons, robberies, and vandalism should each have their own symbol, it’ll make it easier to track patterns.  These outside, along the ring of the city, those make their own pattern, don’t they? Do you need a refill?”  Her quick subject change interrupted the cocky response he had prepared.

 

“Obviously I do.  My mug is clearly empty,” he thrust the offending mug closer to her, “And if you’re so smart why don’t you become a detective, hmm?”  Instead of the snippy quip he was prepared for, she gave a light laugh instead, moving to his to refill the mug in his hand.

 

“Been there, done that,” she said with a hint of smugness and walked away, grabbing the dish his pastry had been on. “You should try the Lion’s Claw next time, the scones are good but the sweets are better.”  Again he was left on the brink of sputtering,  _ How does she read people like that? _ Confusion quickly snapped into annoyance,  _ Little chit… thinks she’s so smart _ .  He angrily set down the now full mug, forgetting that the mug was now full.  Coffee sloshed around in the mug spilling over the sides onto his work notes.  

 

“Fuckin’ a…”

  
  


…

  
  


“Alright Potter, you got some beans to spill!”

 

Harry raised a bushy brow, surprised by the lowbrau phrase coming out of Malfoy’s mouth.  He looked at the blond man, trying not to laugh.  There was a distinct coffee-looking stain on the normally distinguished man’s tie.  The out of place stain just made Harry chuckle.

 

“Do not laugh at me!” Malfoy spat out, angrily slumping down into the armchair in front of Harry’s desk.  “So?  Spill the beans!  Tell me about Witchy Brews and that stupid, annoying-”

 

“Now, is that any way to get information?  I’ll have you know Hermione is dear friend of mine and if you want any information you best be nice.”  Harry smirked, he loved telling Malfoy that he had to play nice.  The blond man just simply was not good at it.  “What do you want to know?”

 

“Who is that insufferable woman, and why do you provide her with staff?  That weasel mentioned that someone on probation worked there recently?”

 

“Witchy Brews is not your average coffee shop, and yes, besides Hermione, most of the employees are on probation.  It’s…” Harry closed his eyes and lifted a finger to the air, doing his best impersonation of Hermione, “It’s a  _ Working On Reintroduction Collaboration,  _ or the WORC Program.”

 

“Yeah, sure, just throw some words together and it makes sense.  Though I didn’t know you were a great impressionist Potter.  Maybe you should leave the force.”  Malfoy snickered, actually quite impressed with Harry’s Hermione impression.  “What does all that mumbo-jumbo mean?”

 

“It’s actually a great program.  It’s a work training opportunity for those who have committed crimes that would otherwise prevent them from getting other jobs.  We set them up at Witchy Brews with training, pay, and a temporary housing.  It’s a great opportunity.  There’s a rigorous application process, not all convicts are eligible for employment there.  We pick those who are most apt to be reintroduced to society and then Hermione takes it from there.”

 

“What do you mean that girl just  _ takes it from there? _  She can’t be equipped to deal with convicts?”  Malfoy was honestly shocked to hear that convicts were just shoved off onto that snippy girl.  Harry again lifted one eyebrow, surprised by Malfoy’s reaction.

 

“You’d do best to not underestimate Hermione.  She’s a lot fiercer than she looks.  She was on the force with Ron and I when we started.  Went to the police academy while also pursuing a triple major in criminal justice, psychology, and business at the University.  Graduated with top marks in all three of her majors.”  Harry loved sharing Hermione’s merits.  He often felt like a proud dad when he told people of Hermione’s accomplishments.  He thrived off the surprised expressions of people.

 

For once in his life Malfoy was actually surprised into silence.  Her natural intuition seemed to make sense now, the way she simply glanced at the his map and  _ knew _ what the pattern was, and how to make his notes better.  

 

“Why did she quit the force?”  He had to ask, there was an elephant in room here.

 

Harry’s perkiness quickly fell, a shadow fell onto his face.  He rested his elbows on the his desk and folded his hands in front of him, lightly resting his chin on his hands.

 

“That’s not my story to tell, Malfoy.  We had a rough few years on the precinct when we first started and unfortunately, due to things out of their control, some people became targets.”  Harry sighed and quickly shook his head, as if shaking away the bad memories.  “Back to the important stuff now, you do know your tie looks like it’s been soaking in coffee, right?”  Malfoy looked down, clearly disgruntled and disturbed by this soiled tie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOoooO! Good chapter, right? Lot's of deets there. I'm sorry it's a little short but I just wanted to get something out there. I hope you're itching for more guys!

**Author's Note:**

> So that's chapter one guys! Please let me know whatchya think/if I should continue! The next chapter will hopefully be up soon. I just gotta get all these plotbunnies wrangled!


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